


The one where Chris is an optimist

by ysse_writes



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-14
Updated: 2011-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:02:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ysse_writes/pseuds/ysse_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Previosuly untitled Trickyfish for M, who wanted "something involving a bet."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one where Chris is an optimist

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not know these people, none of this is true.

It's because he's an optimist, Chris insists, with an unfailing faith in a benevolent Universe. A Universe where good triumphed over evil, right over wrong, underdogs overcame the odds, nice guys got the girl and Lady Luck smiled on Irishmen, of which he was very conveniently one. And also, Chris adds, he's a man of _science_ , and his Universe was not only benevolent but orderly, a Universe where the Laws of Physics and Probability assured him that what was up would eventually come down and the coin would ultimately land tails-side up.

It's because you're stupid, Justin had countered, while Joey nodded solemnly in agreement. JC had asked if he could have Chris' collection of silver necklaces. You know, he'd said, blinking at Chris innocently, to remember you by and comfort me in my grief.

Roaring in masculine outrage he'd jumped them, utilizing some of his signature Kung Fu moves, and they'd run away, the weinies, their shrieks of terror sounding uncannily like screeches of laughter.

Leaving him alone to face the dragon, to beard the lion in his den.

It's because he's an optimist, he tells himself.

 

The truth is, Chris never can resist a challenge.

Lance knows this, and Chris knows Lance knows, and sometimes he wishes he weren't so damn hard-wired or predictable but he is and there's not much he can do about it. Especially when Lance stares up at him, knowing and certain, the challenge shining like a beacon from his cat-eyes, punctuated by the half-smile peeking from the corner of his oh-so-perfect mouth.

Chris knows how that mouth tastes by now, knows just how to make that smirk disappear, to give way to a gasp, a sigh, make it receive or give, respond or demand. He leans down, leans in, capturing that maddening mouth with his own.

Only, Lance is ready for him, and Chris feels like he's the one who's been caught. His eyes are closed - and Lance's eyes had also very damn well be, he thinks - so he can't check if the challenge is still there, but he can feel the smile still hovering, tugging, threatening to take over.

For someone already naked and in Chris' bed, Lance was exhibiting an appalling lack of awe, Chris thinks, so he sets out to correct that, pressing harder, foraying deeper, licking, teasing, touching until Lance recognized the somberness of the situation and responded with appropriate solemnity and appreciation.

And maybe a few breathy moans. Yes, like _that_.

Lance doesn't make it easy, he never does. Chris knows Lance doesn't believe in luck, only in control. Where Chris sees a coin to be tossed Lance sees a button to be pushed. He named the bet, issued the challenge, after all, knowing that Chris had no choice but to take it. Chris doesn't care. He knows that neither of them really believes this to be a game of chance.

He knows Lance is all about taking control.

And Chris is all about making Lance lose it.

Nevermind awe, he thinks, as fingers dig into his skin, Lance's body arching helplessly up to meet his, mindless need will do just fine.

 

Hey, Chris says, poking Lance in the shoulder. Hey.

Part of him is loath to disturb Lance, who looks to be almost asleep, but isn't, because he's humming under his breath and his fingers are tracing idle designs Chris' skin.

Hey, he says again, poking harder and repeatedly until Lance slowly opens his eyes.

If Chris had been a lesser man -- or had better survival instincts -- he would probably have realized that it was a bad, very very bad, idea, a colossal mistake, to poke a practically purring almost-asleep lion. But he's not, otherwise he wouldn't be here, and potentially cranky lion notwithstanding, there are issues that need to be settled, an accounting to be made. His reputation, his very masculinity, depends on it.

What? Lance says.

Well? returns Chris.

It is, perhaps, a testament to Chris' prowess that Lance merely shrugs and closes his eyes again. Fine, he says.

I want it in writing, Chris says, poking him again. On official company letterhead. Notarized.

Lance snorts.

And a press conference, Chris adds.

This time, when Chris pokes, Lance kicks him in the shin.

Okay, not a press conference, Chris relents. But you have to tell the guys. And your parents. And maybe announce it during Challenge.

Chris, Lance says, the faintest of warnings in his tone.

Chris ignores it, unable to stop in his glee. And a t-shirt that says _I Bet Lance and Won. Daniel Webster Who?_

Lance sighs and reaches out, grabbing and turning Chris so they can lie spooned against each other. Fine, Lance says, his breath tickling the back of Chris' neck. I'll tell everyone. I'll announce it on Leno if you want. You won the bet, okay? I'll get the date tattooed on my arm, if you want, just go to sleep.

Chris grins. It is indeed a proud proud day. It took almost a decade but he has finally won a bet with Lance. And the beauty of it is, it was Lance's bet in the first place. He closes his eyes, prepared to sleep the sleep of the righteous.

Although… Lance murmurs, thoughtfully, his voice trailing off. Eyes still closed Chris' forehead wrinkles, catching the hint of doubt in the tone.

He turns, prepared to pinch, because he won that bet fair and square and he has the scratches on his butt and sore unmentionable parts to prove it. Lance's eyes are glinting and that diabolical half-smile is back in place.

What? he demands.

The smile breaks free, full blown and mischievous.

I bet you can't do it _four_ times, Lance says.

Chris never can resist a challenge.

 

 

©JCSA/[2004](http://lisan.livejournal.com/2004/)-[03](http://lisan.livejournal.com/2004/03/)-[10](http://lisan.livejournal.com/2004/03/10/) 06:43:00


End file.
